


A Little Death

by chvotic



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Anger, Angst, Best Friends, Comfort, Crying, Depression, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Intimacy, It isn't revealed whether Newt felt the same for Thomas, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Intimacy, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Past Character Death, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Minho/Thomas, Platonic Relationships, Poor Thomas, Post-The Death Cure, Post-The Maze Runner, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Regret, Sad Minho, Safe Haven, Secrets, Self-Hatred, Semi-Supportive Minho, Suicidal Thoughts, The Death Cure Spoilers, Trauma, hurt!Thomas, sad Thomas, self blame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 06:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13541262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chvotic/pseuds/chvotic
Summary: There he was. Standing in front of him, his blonde hair like a halo around his head. The water crashed in the distance, the people around him chattering as if nothing was happening. As if a dead boy wasn't just standing there and staring at Thomas with warm eyes and a soft smile, as if the boy he had killed wasn't standing there right in front of him, his skin free of all infection."Hey, Tommy." He'd said, stepping closer to him. Thomas stepped back, unsure what to do. He expected hurt to flash over his dead friend's face, but instead, his smile grew if not brighter. "I've missed you."(title from the nbhd)





	A Little Death

**Author's Note:**

> okay it's safe to say that the death cure movie ruined and completed my life so i decided to write this, idfk what it is but...
> 
> this is mostly based on what i could remember of the book regarding newt's death, so there might be some incorrect statements && the safe haven is based of the movie bc i can't remember the book version
> 
> anyways i hope you enjoy

There he was. Standing in front of him, his blonde hair like a halo around his head. The water crashed in the distance, the people around him chattering as if nothing was happening. As if a dead boy wasn't just standing there and staring at Thomas with warm eyes and a soft smile, as if the boy he had killed wasn't standing there right in front of him, his skin free of all infection.

"Hey, Tommy." He'd said, stepping closer to him. Thomas stepped back, unsure what to do. He expected hurt to flash over his dead friend's face, but instead, his smile grew brighter. "I've missed you."

"I've- I've missed you too." Thomas whispered, his heart pounding in his ears as he stared. "I'm so sorry."

Newt stepped closer once again, and this time Thomas didn't step back. He let Newt approach him, his eyes warm and inviting. Thomas was still hurting, and seeing his best friend after so many months of suffering after that day had been the best thing to ever happen to him. Despite how the two of them left things off, Newt was his best friend.

Thomas knew he had always thought of Newt as more than a friend. Though he had never gotten the chance to find out if he felt the same. Or, he just never thought to talk about it.

"There's nothing to be buggin' sorry for, Tommy. It's not your fault." Newt was saying, never breaking eye contact with him. How was Newt acting so civil? Thomas had killed him. "Stop thinking so hard. I don't blame you. Stop bloody torturing yourself."

"You should." Thomas muttered, breaking eye contact and looking down. Everything inside him was hurting the more he looked at Newt, knowing that he had been the one to put that bullet in his head. He had been the one to receive that goddamn letter. Newt trusted him to kill him. Thomas had done so, yet he still felt bad with every fibre in his body. He felt so much regret it was overpowering all of his other thoughts, and he had reduced to forcing himself to be happy around the friends he had left.

"I wanted you to kill me, Tommy. I wanted it. I was going insane." As Newt was talking, a hand had rested on his cheek, starling him out of his trance. He met Newt's eyes, feeling his own tear up as he stared at his best friend. God, how he had missed him. He felt horrible, and he couldn't stop himself from grieving. 

"I'm sorry." Thomas repeated, feeling a tear slide down his cheek. Newt wiped it away instantly, his thumb swiping across Thomas' cheek in a motion that made him want to fully fall apart. He missed Newt so damn much it was killing him.

Before he could process what exactly was happening, there was lips pressed against his. His eyes closed automatically, melting into the motion instantly as Newt's lips moved against his, something that he had been wanting for too long. He felt Newt's hands rest on his hips, gently squeezing, the touch comforting. Thomas smiled into the kiss, despite the tears still running down his cheeks, before they broke apart for a few seconds to breath.

There was no words said between them before they met again, Thomas not caring less if people were watching. Newt was here. Newt was alive. He didn't care for the salty taste of his tears as they ran down to his lips, soon becoming included in the kiss that Newt and himself were sharing. Everything felt right in that second, and he felt complete. He savoured the feeling, knowing that at any point everything could fall apart and he would be left with nothing.

Before Thomas could wrap his arms around Newt's neck and hold him closer, the grip on his hips intensified. He made a surprised sound, eyes shooting open, his eyes meeting open black ones. He jumped back, breaking the kiss and trying to force himself out of the grip Newt had on him. Those eyes bored into his head, as though Newt were staring into his soul. Thomas had been proven right, he had jinxed himself. 

The warm smile that had been on Newt's face seconds before was gone, and Thomas found himself staring at the same, infected boy he had shot in the head. That same boy Thomas could barely recognise as his best friend, his shameful crush. His eyes were dark, soulless, and his skin was covered in blood and his veins were black. His hair was no longer soft and perfect, patches of his blonde hair having been torn out, dark welts being left behind. Tears began to fall more rapidly as Newt stared at him with those eyes, Thomas barely managing to break out of the strong hold Newt had on him. 

There was something in his hand. Something heavy, small, and Thomas soon recognised it as a gun. It was like it had appeared out of thin air, Thomas knowing for a fact that he hadn't touched a gun since they made it to the safe haven, and he hadn't had one on him. Every time he saw a pistol even remotely close to the one he used to shoot Newt, his emotions would go haywire and it would send him into a spiral of memories he was wishing to forget. His friends always saw the reactions, especially Brenda, who was carrying the burden of knowing Thomas's secret.

It was as though his arms were moving by themselves, aiming the gun at Newt's forehead. Newt on the other hand was now smiling evilly, his mouth dripping with black fluid as he stared dead at Thomas, almost daring him to shoot. Almost daring him to shoot him for the second time. This definitely wasn't the Newt that Thomas had once known, the Newt he had first met in the Glade.

"I do blame you, Thomas." The Crank spat, the liquid spraying over Thomas' face. "You don't even have the shuckin' decency to tell Minho. You know exactly what he'd do to you. He would never want to see your shuck face ever again."

"Stop." Thomas pleaded, trying to force his arms down from where they were stuck, aiming the gun directly at Newt's forehead. It was like an invisible force was holding him there in a vice grip, forcing him to aim the gun at his infected best friend. The words Newt had said to him at the Crank Palace ran through his mind, making Thomas's heart clench painfully as he locked eyes with the dark, soulless ones of his friend.

"Do it, Tommy. Kill me. Kill me again." Newt gargled, the glint in his eye being something that Thomas didn't like. How was nobody seeing this? Where was everyone? Where the hell was Minho?

Minho. He needed to tell Minho.

"Kill me, Tommy. Shoot me." The way Newt was so sickly serious made Thomas feel nauseous, his stomach churning in horror as he felt his fingers moving on their own accord, itching towards the trigger. Crank Newt seemed to notice this, the smile on his face growing incredibly wider as his body jerked in odd directions. The Flare was taking over Newt's mind and body faster and faster, Thomas could tell. Newt had been acting like he was reading Thomas's mind, that smirk growing and growing.

There was a moment of shrill silence before Newt said it.

"Please, Tommy. Please." It sounded different, as though he were aiming to torture Thomas. There was no clearing of the eyes, there was no indication that the old Newt, the real Newt, was still there. He was gone. Newt was gone. Newt was a Crank. His Newt was gone.

He pulled the trigger when Newt launched for him, the last thing he saw being the enraged face and the roaring sound of his screams as his former best friend careering towards his own.

Thomas awoke screaming, thrashing in his makeshift bed as he shot up, strangled gasps and yells leaving his mouth as his mind ran at full speed. He fell to the floor, screaming and wailing as he clawed at his head, as though he would be able to pull the nightmares and Newt's face out of his head forever. He wanted to remove his whole memory of killing Newt. He wanted to forget how much of a terrible, sick person he was. He wanted to forget all the feelings that came along with it.

He was a murderer.

He screamed louder, letting everything out as he clawed, ignoring the burning sensation spreading across the skin on his forehead. He faintly recalled lights turning on and someone dropping down next to him, but he was too lost in the nightmare to care. He'd killed his best friend.

His clawing was stopped when someone grabbed his wrists, yanking his hands away. He yelled, more in shock than anger, eyes darting as he tried to find the face of the person. He jumped when Brenda's familiar eyes met his, and he soon connected the dots that she was the one restraining him. But that wasn't enough to calm down his brain, which was running a million times an hour as panic spread throughout his body.

In the midst of his hysterics, he threw Brenda off and tried to stand, failing and instead crashing into another body. He panicked, pushing at the person in attempt to get away. He didn't know why exactly he was trying to escape, or who he was escaping from, but seeing Newt again like that had done it for him.

All his dreams had been nice, nothing like this. He had been expecting to relive Newt's death over and over in his dreams, but he never had. Not until now.

Thomas didn't deserve to live while his friend didn't. Minho didn't deserve to be left wondering what happened or where his best friend was, Brenda didn't deserve to carry Thomas's baggage.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he finally heard a voice. "Thomas! Calm down, man, it's okay. I'm right here." Minho.

Thomas paused his flailing, looking up and meeting non-other than Minho's brown eyes. They held eye contact for a few seconds, before Thomas felt himself crack, and he fell into Minho's chest with an ear shattering sob. He felt Minho's arms wrap around him, pulling him close as Thomas sobbed into his shirt. They sat like that for who knows how long, hugging, Thomas's sobs being the only sound. Brenda's hand was rubbing his back in slow circles, calming Thomas down faster than he would like to admit.

"You're alright. It was just a dream." Minho was whispering in his ear, providing the comfort that Thomas never knew he needed until now. It took a while, but finally Thomas was able to face them, his face stained with tears and snot as he sat up. Minho's arms never left, keeping him in that protective embrace.

Thomas didn't know what to do or how to react for a long time. He sat there, staring into the distance, his eyes burning from how much he'd cried and from tiredness. He was drained, though he didn't want to go back to sleep. Newt's face was still plastered in his mind, and there was nothing he could do to stop it from appearing. Nothing.

Thomas jumped when someone entered his tent, a new lamp entering along with them. He slowly looked up, feeling as though he was in a daze as he stared up at an confused Jorge, who was staring right back at him. Thomas felt intimidated by his stare, despite how much they had bonded over time, and instinctively moved closer to Minho, silently asking to just be held.

Minho seemed to realise this, letting Thomas slump back against his shoulder. Thomas felt his eyes closing, exhaustion beginning to become evident as he heard Jorge, Minho and Brenda speak words he couldn't understand. He was still crying, the tears running steadily down his cheeks as he tried to focus. Though, nothing was working, and he decided on just sitting there numbly, crying over the death that he had caused. Crying over all the deaths he had caused.

He had to tell Minho.

But he couldn't.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Minho had asked him, Thomas ignoring the fact that he had never really seen this side of Minho before and that it was all new to him. Thomas shook his head, guilt coming at him like a slap in the face.

"Tomorrow." Thomas whispered, unsure why exactly he was saying the word, but he knew it was time. It was time to tell Minho the truth of what had happened to his friend. Thomas was going to force himself to do it, no matter what.

He felt Minho nod. "Okay. How about you go back to bed, huh Tomboy?"

Thomas knew he wouldn't be sleeping, but he nodded his head either way. He let Minho help him up, stumbling over to his makeshift bed and lying down on it within seconds. He heard Minho shuffling around behind him, and for a few seconds Thomas suspected that he was going to leave. He was silently begging Minho not to leave him, knowing for a fact that he wouldn't be getting any sleep. Instead, Thomas felt his bed dip as someone laid down, and soon there was a body pressing against his back and an arm across his stomach.

Thomas turned back to look at Minho, who only smiled very slightly. Thomas turned back to facing the tent wall, his arm coming to rest on top of Minho's as he tried forcing himself to relax. The position was intimate, especially for the two of them, but Thomas knew that it was nothing but friendship. He knew there was no romantic feelings there, and that it was purely just for comfort. Thomas hated to think how he could ruin such an amazing friendship with one sentence.

He had ruined Newt and Minho's friendship. Minho had known Newt for so much longer than Thomas, and he deserved to know the truth.

His pocket was always heavy with the note Newt had given him. Always.

Somehow, despite of everything that was happening and the nightmare he had just witnessed, he fell into a deep slumber, the last thing being on his mind being Newt's face.

He was a murderer.

\----------

Thomas woke up crying.

He didn't remember dreaming about anything, or seeing Newt's face again. He was just crying for no apparent reason, barely noting that Minho was still pressed up against him in the same position they had been when Thomas dozed off, his breath heavy against the back of Thomas' neck. Thomas laid there for who knows how long, waiting for Minho to wake up, listening to the sounds of the other people in the camp beginning to bustle around as he stared at the tent wall.

He didn't know how long it took before Minho woke up, his body shifting as he did so. Thomas made no noise, tensing at the thoughts running through his head. He was going to tell Minho.

He was going to lose another one of his best friends.

Thomas had jumped when Minho pulled away, the other boy sitting up while rubbing his eyes. Thomas stayed in the same position, turning his eyes back to the tent wall as his heart began to pound in his ears. He could feel the tears lingering once again, the mere thought of telling Minho scaring him half to death.

"Morning." Minho mumbled, patting his forearm. Thomas didn't move, closing his eyes with a defeated sigh as he ran through his options.

"I'm ready to talk about it." Thomas mumbled, feeling this hand moving on it's own accord towards his pocket. The pocket where he always kept Newt's letter. The pocket that held his biggest regret, secret and depression all at once. He stuck his hand in his pocket, fingers searching for the note, his heart dropping when his fingers brushed against the paper. He pulled it out, setting the folded paper in front of him and stared. He was going to lose Minho.

"Alright." Minho had replied during all of this, watching Thomas as he pulled the little piece of yellowish paper out of his pocket. "Is this what's been bothering you since we got here?"

Thomas nodded. Squeezing his eyes shut, he handed the letter to Minho before bringing his arms around himself. He was shaking. He was terrified. Hearing Minho open that letter had been the worse thing he'd had to listen to since he'd pulled the trigger.

There was a tense silence as Minho read the note, Thomas preparing his grave. Minho was going to destroy him. Thomas was a murderer, he deserved it.

He heard a sniffle. Thomas was close to breaking all over again.

"Did you do it?" Minho's voice broke the silence, his voice void of emotion. Thomas couldn't look at him, chewing his lip with such ferocity he knew he had torn the skin there. The waterworks had started back up, Thomas's heart was breaking all over again as he nodded his head to Minho's words.

His heart almost rocketed out of his chest when Minho stood, and without thinking he reached out and caught Minho by the wrist. Thomas could see the tears sliding down Minho's face, and immediately he regretted his decision. He'd ruined everything.

"Why'd you do it, Thomas?" Minho asked him, his voice flat.

"He looked terrible, Minho. He was almost gone. I tried to get him to come back with us, I tried! I tried to bring him back with us, but he wouldn't let me." Thomas rushed, keeping a firm hold on Minho's wrist as he explained. "He told me he hated me, and that he always had. He told me it was all my fault." 

There was no reply from his friend, though Thomas did see his eyes soften just a little.

"He told me to kill him, he begged me. He had forced the gun to his own head, begging me. Before I... before I did it.. the old Newt was there. The real Newt was there, begging me. He begged me, Minho. I never wanted to do that to him." Thomas was close to hysterics, pleading with his eyes for Minho to stay. Thomas didn't know how long he had before he himself would start going insane. Before Minho could reply, Thomas bursted.

"He told me how he tried to kill himself in the maze. It was all my fault. I've gotten so many people killed. I'm.. I'm a murderer. I killed my best friend!" Thomas was yelling now, not caring that the others outside would for sure hear him. "I should be dead instead of Newt. I should be dead instead of Chuck, I should be dead instead of Teresa, I should be dead instead of all of them!" Thomas inhaled, not letting Minho interrupt like he knew he wanted to. "Go ahead, beat me up, I deserve it! Do whatever you want to me, I don't care, I deserve everything that's coming my way. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be alive!"

And Thomas let go. He choked on his own sobs, rolling back onto his side and just cried. He was expecting a punch, he was expecting to be thrown off of his bed and onto the floor and get kicked. He was expecting to get yelled at, and he was for sure expecting to never have his friendship with Minho back. All he had left was Brenda.

But what he wasn't expecting was for the bed to dip, and for Minho to take his place behind him. This time, Minho reached for Thomas' hand, where it had been fisting the blanket incredibly hard, before placing it in his own. Thomas pulled their intertwined hands to his chest, as though he were hugging them, overwhelmed by all the emotions going through his head.

"I am mad." Minho began, and Thomas used everything he had left in him not to sob. "I'm mad that you've waited so long to tell me the truth, you shuckface. We've been here for months, and you never told me until now. Newt was my best friend too, Thomas. I would have liked to know that he's been shucking dead this whole time." Minho was crying.

"I'm sorry." Thomas sobbed, squeezing onto Minho's hand so tight. It felt as though Minho would disappear at any second and never come back. "I didn't... I didn't know how to tell you. I was scared. I am scared. Punch me, kick me, just do something! I deserve it!"

"No." Thomas felt Minho squeeze his hand. "If Newt were here right now, do you really think he would want us fighting? Do you think he'd want you torturing yourself like this?"

Thomas didn't reply, crying so hard he could no longer form words.

"I don't like your decision on keeping this from me for so long. But I read that letter, Thomas. He wanted you to. If I were in your situation, I don't know what I would have done. I miss Newt, too, you know, and I would have liked to know what had happened to him. This whole time, I thought he was alive but insane, back in Denver with the rest of the Cranks. He's been dead this whole time." Minho continued, and Thomas felt his body shake as he tried to compose himself. "But you don't deserve to be dead, you're the reason you got us here, slinthead."

"I killed Newt." Thomas whispered, his breathing picking up dramatically. "I killed him. I shot him. I'm a murderer."

"Stop torturing yourself like that. Newt wouldn't have wanted that."

Despite the words that were coming out of Minho's mouth, Thomas could feel Minho's body shaking and he could hear how he was trying to hold in sobs. He'd just found out that his best friend was dead. He had just found out that Thomas had shot his best friend, and he was trying to hold it in. Thomas had ruined both of his best friend's lives.

Everything that happened with the maze was all his fault.

It was silent after that. They laid there, crying together for another solid half and hour before Minho broke the silence once again.

"What happened in your nightmare?" He'd whispered, his voice low as if somebody were listening in. "I know it's about Newt, or else you wouldn't have told me today."

Thomas nodded, ignoring the last few words that left Minho's mouth and began explaining the dream he'd rather forget. "It was the same as them all, Newt was here... he was here and he was okay. He told me he didn't blame me, and..." Thomas hesitated. His stomach was churning just remembering everything over, and he honestly just wanted to die. "He... h-he kissed me."

Minho tensed at Thomas' words. Thomas decided to continue without waiting for a reaction.

"And then he turned into a Crank. Just as he had looked that day, though he was angry. Angrier than he had been, angrier than I've ever seen him before. He made me kill him again, he blamed me."

"I thought... I thought you were in love with Teresa?" Minho asked him, and through all the sadness in his tone he could sense the curiosity. Thomas didn't answer, Teresa's face moving into his mind for a few seconds. Her face before the rock had fallen on her, after she had saved Thomas' own life. Thomas cringed. "What about Brenda?"

"It's not like that." Thomas said lowly, shame creeping up on him. "Brenda's my friend."

"Alright. But Newt, you liked him more than you let on." There was no teasing, no mocking, just sadness from Minho, all the curiosity gone from his tone. "It was never Teresa, was it?"

Thomas didn't reply. Everything was his fault.

"You were in love with the guy, weren't you?" There was no malice in Minho's tone either.

Thomas still didn't reply. He couldn't reply. It was as if someone had sewn his mouth shut and destroyed his vocal chords all at the same time. Thomas felt exposed, he felt depressed, and he just wanted to fall into a deep slumber he would never come out of. He'd gotten Chuck killed, he'd gotten Teresa killed, he'd killed Newt. He had so much blood on his hands, and for some reason he felt like the list was just going to keep going. No one new how long this safe haven would last.

"Don't leave." Thomas managed to whisper, eyes widening at the words that had just come out of his mouth. He'd said it without thinking, and instantly worry was seeping into his brain once again as he felt Minho tense. Minho was going to leave him. Minho blamed him.

Thomas should be blamed. He had pulled the trigger.

"I'm not going anywhere, Tomboy."

**Author's Note:**

> i loved writing about thomas and minho aLRIght 
> 
> this was probably terrible and out of character but i liked the idea
> 
> thanks for reading :)


End file.
